


I don't wanna share

by visenyathedragoness



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, F/M, Incest, Reunions, Sexual Content, Violence, kinda slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visenyathedragoness/pseuds/visenyathedragoness
Summary: A girl shows up at Castle Black claiming to be Arya Stark. But Arya isn't the little girl Jon remembers, nor is he the sweet boy from her childhood. But if they have to deal with being monsters, then they best do it together. After all, they always were the outcasts.





	1. Chapter 1-Jon

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so here goes nothing. I love the Jon/Arya pairing so I hope to do them justice.

Ever since the Red Witch had brought him back from the black void of death his perception of time was off. He would forget to sleep or eat and not be particularly bothered by it. That is how Jon ended up working at his desk all through the night and well into the morning.

Since his death he was bothered infrequently, often left to his own means for hours, even days at a time in his chambers. After making it clear to Edd and the other watchmen that he was no longer lord commander there was little reason for them to seek him out. Therefore the abrupt knocking startled him, unpleasantly snapping back to reality.

As Jon stood his muscles, tense from not moving, resisted and he nearly fell back into his seat. He instead braced himself on the old wood of his desk and returned to the task of making his way to the door after hearing another round of knocking. He unbarred the door and pulled the monstrosity open to come face to face with Edd.

“Lord Commander,” he began but was quickly cut off by Jon.

“I’m no longer Lord Commander,” Jon snapped. His tone was harsher than he had meant it to be but no one seemed to be catching on and it was tedious correcting them all the time.

“Forgive me, my lor-, forgive me, Jon,” Edd started, “There’s a girl here asking for you, she says she’s Arya Stark.”

“Arya Stark is dead,” Jon countered. He said it as much to remind himself as he did to Edd because the truth that Arya, his little sister was dead was too much for him to bear and even after all this time he didn’t want to believe it.

“I assure you the girl is very much alive and awaiting your presence in the training yard,” Edd replied.

Surely it was an imposter, there was no other explanation because Arya was dead. Jon’s grief over the mention of his dead sister turned to hatred. Whoever dared to claim his sister's name and come to him would pay. No one could ever think him stupid enough to believe in such a lie. No one could ever replace Arya Stark, his sister, his Arya. Whoever it was waiting outside Castle Black was not his sister and they would suffer for making such a claim. He would kill them for this.

Red clouding his vision, Jon made his way further into his chambers to retrieve Longclaw, fastening the belt around his waist before making towards the door. Edd had moved further into the doorway blocking his path and he was not in a mood to wait. “Move Edd,” he demanded and between the edge to his voice and the murderous look in his eyes Edd made no effort to resist.

Jon stormed through the now clear doorway and kept a brisk pace, not quite running, intent on making it to the training yard quickly. He tried with all his might to maintain some level of composure but his self-control, like many other things, was not the same as it was before his death.

When the frigid air hit his skin indicating he had reached the training yard he didn’t mind, he barely noticed. Jon was too focused on the dark haired girl facing the fire with her back to him. He forced himself to be mindful of his feet as he descended the staircase as falling on his ass wouldn’t do him any good. After all, he wanted this girl to fear him, she should fear him considering what he intended to do to her.

With his dagger in hand, Jon snuck up behind her. He pressed the tip of the blade to her back, not enough to do damage, not yet, just enough to alert her of his presence and to threaten her with her impending mortality. He was about to begin speaking when she caught him off guard. Jon had not expected her to spin around with such grace or for the thin blade to seemingly materialize in her hands. He barely comprehends what was happening before she had knocked the knife out of his hand with an all too familiar sword. Needle. But it couldn’t be. She was dead.

He couldn’t bear to look upon the girl’s face. He knew that it would only disappoint him for there was no way that he would see the girl he wanted her to be. Arya was dead. Seeing her sword though, the sword he gave her, wielded by someone he did not know was something Jon did not want to see. Instead, he kept his eyes on the blade, he may be out of sorts but was not stupid enough to let the girl catch him off guard again. Yet to his surprise she made no move against him after the initial disarmament.

“Hello, Jon,” he heard suddenly in a voice from long ago and he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Even so, his subconscious wish to be reunited with his sister broke his resolve and he looked up to gaze upon her face. His eyes deceived him for this girl looked exactly as he imagined an older version of Arya would look. He refused to believe that it could truly be her until he met her eyes. Cold, and as grey as the approaching storm, her eyes confirmed this was no imposter.

It was all too much for Jon to process in his current state and his knees gave out. His eyes grew hot and moist until they overflowed and he began to cry at the feet of the sister he thought he had lost. Arya, as wild as ever, showed no hesitancy at dropping to the ground in front of him. She reached out wiping a tear from his face. It was like her touch proved to Jon that she was real, not some hallucination created by his mind. At this, he pulled her into a hug tight enough to suffocate her and she eagerly returned the embrace with just as much force.

They stayed like that for quite some time, silent and holding each other. Eventually, they drew apart enough to look at each other as if evaluating all that had changed since the last time they had seen one another. She was no longer the little girl he left all those years ago but a young woman who looked as if their time apart had been as hard on her as it had been for him.

She must have been entertaining a similar train of thought because she took the opportunity just then to break the silence. “You look like shit,” she said but her voice indicated she meant nothing serious by it.

Jon looked down at himself before responding with a hint of a smile and a low chuckle, “I suppose I do.”


	2. Chapter Two-Arya

Arya welcomed the warmth of the fire in the dining hall. Jon had been insistent that she come in and warm up after they had finally managed to get off the ground of the training yard. It seemed he had yet to catch on to the fact that she was old enough to take care of herself now. It wasn’t quite that she minded, it had just been so long since she had been with someone who truly cared about her that it all seemed very strange.

Jon had asked a boy, who appeared to be a few years younger than herself, to bring them something to eat. Now they both had bowls of stew, each billowing steam, some type of bread and mugs of ale. Arya ignored every ounce of common sense she had and lifted the bowl to her lips. She gulped down some of the broth, taking a few swallows before lowering the dish. She winced at the way that the liquid had burned her throat and quickly reached for the ale in front of her. The ale, while not entirely pleasant, was far from the worst she had had and it felt nice on the scalded tissue of her mouth so she downed the entire mug without coming up for air.

Upon looking up from the bottom of the mug, she met the bewildered gaze of Jon, who even after death ate like a normal human being. Granted, Arya had never been one for table manners but now she ate like a wild animal. She hardly gave it a second thought before shoving her mouth with bread. It was sourdough, which as a child she despised, and she ate like it was the best thing she had tasted in ages. After eating so little, for so long, on her journey to Castle Black, she was famished and the ache of hunger that she had managed to suppress for so long was back.

Even so, she paced herself and went back to her stew she ate slower and with her spoon. She could taste it better this way and she realized it was rabbit and was seasoned very well. Her ale had been filed and she alternated between spoonfuls of stew and sips of ale with breaks for bread. She savored the flavor of the chunk of bread she dipped in the stew. Despite her tired muscles and tormented mind, this was the best she had felt in quite some time.

Arya finished her meal shortly before Jon and took the opportunity to watch him as he ate. If her gaze bothered him at all he did not show it.  _ Gods, he has changed _ , she thought to herself. She took note of the circles under his eyes, what she had said before about him looking like shit didn’t even begin to describe the disheveled look he wore now. His hair was long, greasy, and knotted, much like how she used to wear hers as a young girl. It was abnormal for him though, at least it used to be. It worried her not knowing what was normal for him anymore almost as much as she was worried about his appearance. It looked like he had given up caring for his own wellbeing and she promised herself that she would change that.

She waited until he only nibbled at the remaining food before she asked, “Could we go somewhere quieter?”

In truth, the dining hall was mostly empty and the noise level was low. Jon seemed to understand that she was really asking if there was somewhere private they could go and responded, “Of course, we have a lot to talk about.”

With that, he stood and began walking off and she followed his lead. It seemed true, what she’d heard about even Castle Black falling somewhat into disrepair. Some of the buildings she had seen coming in looked to be too dangerous to enter yet now walking down the old halls, she was intrigued. Jon continued towards their destination and she kept walking, though she did so subconsciously because she was quite lost in thought. 

When she was young, Arya had learned about the wall in her lessons and had always dreamt of seeing it. Of course, her mother didn’t respond well to the idea of her ever making the trip north. She was told the wall was not a place for a lady and that by the time she would have been old enough to go she would already be happily married to some southern lord. Arya was adamant that she would not be anyone’s wife and she didn’t understand why it wasn’t an option for a lady to visit the wall. She wasn’t a lady though and now here she was, walking the halls of Castle Black, though not for the reasons she once had.

She only managed not to run right into Jon at the last second as he stopped in front of a door she imagined weighed more than herself. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter, she stepped into the room that appeared to be Jon’s study and looked around the sparsely decorated area. There was a singular chair in front of a fireplace with some furs on the ground at one end of the room, at the other a massive desk cluttered with paper. 

When she heard the door shut behind her she forgot all about the layout of the room, instead, she turned to Jon and launched herself into his arms. He hadn’t been prepared but caught her nonetheless, only needing one step back to regain his balance. His strong arms held her close to his body, it reminded her so much of their last goodbye all those years ago that it took some effort for her not to start crying.

“Gods, I missed you so much,” she said, inhaling his scent and loving it, even unwashed he still smelled like himself, like Jon, like home.

“I’ve missed you too, little sister,” he replied. He set her down but quickly pulled her back to him and rested his chin on her head.

When they parted she drifted to sit on the furs in front of the fireplace, he joined her, legs outstretched and back against the chair. Arya decided she didn’t particularly like the distance between them and repositioned so she was lying, looking towards the ceiling, with her legs across his knees. Jon let out a contented sigh that she interpreted as meaning that he too felt more comfortable having the constant reminder of physical contact to prove she was real.

After a moment of silence, Arya said, bluntly as ever, “I heard you died.”

“I did,” he replied, after a minute he continued with pain laced throughout his voice, “I thought you were dead. I haven’t heard anything about you since father died.”

“I’m sorry,” was all she could manage as a response.

“What happened to you?” he asked, the pain hadn’t left his voice and it made her heart clench, he had thought she was dead for so long, no wonder he acted the way he had earlier, he didn’t think it was her.

“A lot happened,” she started, but instead of explaining she changed the course of the conversation completely, “I’m so tired, I’ll tell you another time.”

“I can have a fire lit in one of the guest chambers if you wish to sleep unless you would rather stay with me,” he told her, the end of his statement tinged with longing.

She understood his reluctance for her to leave, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight, so when she replied she said, “I’d rather stay with you, however before I am sleeping anywhere I’m in desperate need of a bath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading this. I'm still not entirely sure where I am taking this so only time will tell. I will try to update again soon.


	3. Chapter Three-Jon (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been updating this anywhere near as often as I would've liked. This is only the first half of chapter three but I was too impatient to keep postponing updating. In fact, I kind of rushed writing this and I am really hoping it didn't turn out awful. This should start getting a bit more heated in the next chapters so hang in there. I apologize that it took so long. Enjoy!

Jon waited with Arya while a bath was drawn for her in his chambers. It wasn’t long before Joren, the boy who served their meal, had come to inform him that the bath was ready. Jon rose to his feet and extended a hand to Arya to help her up. He knew she didn’t need assistance but he was looking for practically any excuse to stay in contact with her. To his relief, she took his offered hand and didn’t let go until they had made their way to his adjoining chambers.

When she started undressing, just her gloves and boots at first, Jon made to leave. Though he hated the idea of going when he just got her back, he also respected her privacy. She was his sister and it would have been indecent for him to refuse to leave while she bathed.

“Stay,” Arya called after him before he could get halfway to the door. He turned back, clearly confused, but didn’t approach her.

“Come back stupid, I didn’t ask for a bath just for me,” she pointed out.

Jon hesitated, “It wouldn’t be proper to bath with my sister.”

“Don’t worry so much Jon, it’ll be just like when we used to swim in the hot springs together,” she justified.

He pointed out, “We aren’t kids anymore.” But his resolve was starting to break despite his common sense, and even he didn’t find his argument very convincing.

“No, we aren’t. You smell a lot worse now, soon we will be getting word that your stench is bothering people in Dorne,” she joked.

Jon could never say no to her before and it turned out that nothing had changed. He was still skeptical, he didn’t think this was a good idea but she did have a point. He was actually a bit embarrassed, he couldn’t possibly smell that bad, could he?

Jon approached her and realized she was sporting the same smirk she used to get when she was pleased with herself. She knew she won, and she was happy about it. Jon couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by that, if anything the reminder of old times brightened his mood.

Once Arya seemed to be sure that he wouldn’t leave she resumed undressing. Jon made a conscious effort not to look at her as much as possible. He angled himself away from her and began to remove his own clothes. Taking his time, he tried to focus on anything except what he was doing. It worked well until he was removing his small clothes at which point he tried to submerge himself into the tub of water as quickly as possible.

Arya had the decency to look away as he stepped in though after he was seated she stared at him shamelessly. First, her gaze was directed at his face but she soon looked lower, fixating on the scars with her eyes. 

Jon struggled to keep a straight face and not to fidget. To say that Arya’s observations were making him uncomfortable was an understatement. The vulnerability of the situation had him on edge. But this was Arya, and even in such an awkward situation, he felt more comfortable with her than he had with anyone else in his life.

Arya remained silent, looking at him, though seemingly lost in her thoughts. At some point, she had caught her bottom lip between her teeth, as if contemplating something. He noticed the way her left hand was almost trembling, and then it all made sense to him. As a child, Arya always preferred looking with her hands rather than her eyes and it appeared that hadn’t changed, though her self-restraint has gotten noticeably better. Jon gave her a small nod agreeing to her further exploration and effectively ending her mental conflict. She immediately understood what he meant.

Now that she had permission Arya wasted no time before closing a considerable amount of the small distance between them. Her sudden movement caused the water to slosh around, some of which splashed Jon in the face. She wiped the water from his eyes and he felt the corners of his mouth tug up into a rare smile. A smile that didn’t fade when her hands wander down to his chest. Her fingers trailed from scar to scar, lightly grazing the raised red skin of each one. She lingered on the one over his heart.

“Are they dead?” she asked.

“Aye, I hung ‘em all” he replied softly, though having returned to his usual, serious, demeanor.

She found his eyes, “Good. I only wish I could’ve offed the bastards myself.”

That’s when Jon first saw the murderous glint in his little sister’s eyes.   



	4. Chapter Three-Jon (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a long time between updates. I'm sorry about that, I go through phases of writing a lot of good quality work and then have a block for a while. But I've been working on some new stuff that I look forward to sharing soon. I wanted to get an update out there for this though, so here it is. I can't say I am completely satisfied but I figured it was better than nothing. So I hope you enjoy. And thank you for those who are sticking with me.

Jon would have had quite like to ask his little sister a few questions after seeing that look in her eye. It scared him, not because he was frightened of her, never that, but because he was terrified to find out what she endured that would make her talk so casually about murdering people. Then again, after how she effortlessly disarmed him earlier in the day he supposed that he should have expected it. He wished he could have protected her from ever experiencing things that would cause killing to be normal. Ironically, he wanted to kill anyone who had caused it to be that way for her. He wondered if she already did.

He never got the chance to ask her those questions though because after smirking at him Arya submerged herself under the water. It was only moments before she reappeared, pushing her water slick hair behind her ears. Then she twirled her finger in a circle as some sort of strange gesture. It confused him, a fact that she must have noticed because she decided to speak up.

“Turn around,” she said. When he didn’t immediately do so she clarified, “I’m gonna wash your hair stupid.” Jon hesitantly maneuvered his way around until his back faced her. Arya used her hands to pour some water over his hair, wetting his hair and sending a few drops down onto his face. She ran her fingers through the knotted mess. Much to his surprise, she untangled the majority while causing him only minimal discomfort. 

He felt her lean back before returning to the task with what appeared to be a scented oil if the smell was any indication. He couldn’t help but notice the way her breasts grazed his back as she started to massage the oil into his scalp. Jon quickly tried to banish the thought from his head because that’s his  _ sister. _ He was mostly successful.

It felt good though, the way she persistently worked to restore his hair to its former glory. Jon let himself lose himself in the moment and just feel good. He was more relaxed than he had been since well before his death. Perhaps a bit too relaxed he decided when his dick started to twitch in interest from the general closeness of a warm body. His own body was betraying him, doing exactly what he hadn’t wanted. Jon willed his dick to soften and prayed to whatever gods would listen that Arya wouldn’t notice. He just got her back, he would never forgive himself if he repulsed her or caused her any discomfort.

He hoped it seemed natural when he submerged himself and used his own hands to finish rinsing his hair. If it hadn’t, Arya made no indication towards it. Jon stood, carefully keeping his body angled in a way where his partial erection wasn’t in her line of sight. Relief washed over him in a wave as he wrapped himself in a towel and hiding the source of his discomfort.

Arya quickly followed and he caught an eyeful, very unintentionally, of his not-so-little sister's body before she covered herself with the other towel. It didn’t seem to bother her though and so he forced himself not to be bothered either.

No similar incidents occurred as they dressed, Jon in loose breeches and a sleep shirt, Arya dressed similarly. By the time they crawled in bed, Jon was satisfied with his lack of arousal, however, haunted by the way he had reacted to his own sister.

If it had been up to him they would have taken different sides of the bed, but Arya cuddled up against him without hesitation like when she was a child. “Goodnight, Jon,” she said sleepily. His response a chaste kiss to the top of her head followed by, “Goodnight, my little she-wolf.”


End file.
